


but not today

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5903047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose tries to cope after the events of Doomsday, but finds leading a real life after her time with the Doctor incredibly difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but not today

I wake up every morning at 7:00 a.m. to be at Torchwood for work by 8:00. I eat breakfast with Dad. Mum sleeps in when she can. She gets bigger every day.

Dad and I leave at the same time, though in different cars.

I work until lunch, inputting information into the database, what I know of the Raxacoricofallapatorians and the Daleks and the Face of Boe and the other countless creatures I met in my travels with… him. And after lunch, I continue. They tell me my information is of immense value.

I work until 5:00 and head back home. We have dinner, Mum, Dad, me, and sometimes Mickey, and they all talk about what they did with the day. I don't usually talk, except to react to what they're saying. What is there to tell?

The night passes in front of the telly, Mum and Dad holding hands on the couch in that comfortable way that married people do when they know they're in it forever.

Mum is less abrasive than this world's Jackie Tyler was, I think, and this world's Pete is far more successful that the other world's, so I think they balance out. I keep Mum grounded. If I had stayed… with him, she would've let the money go to her head. So I suppose something good's come out of it all.

Eventually the telly goes off and I kiss Mum and Dad goodnight and we all go to bed.

What they don't know, but probably suspect, is that I'm not coping.

I see the worry in Dad's eyes when we kiss goodbye in the morning.

What they don't know is that when I'm at my desk, inputting information on aliens, I pull up his file at least once an hour and read through it. His fondness for bananas, his distaste for violence, his love for adventure. There's always something to add, little things that may only mean something to me, but what difference does it make? In the end, this world will never know him.

Evenings are the worst, that downtime where there isn't much to do and all you have are your thoughts. Mum and Dad don't like it when I'm in my room alone. They mean well, I know, but he always occupies my thoughts no matter where I am.

What they really don't know is that after they go to bed, once I'm sure they're really asleep, I get in my car and drive a few miles down the road. There's a field down that way and when I reach it, I take the blanket from the back of my car, spread it out, and lay back to stare at the sky.

Every night I stare at the stars and imagine that one of them may suddenly move, that I'll hear those familiar engines and that glorious blue box will land and those doors will open and there he'll be.

The longer I lay there, the more reluctant I am to leave, thinking that the minute I get in my car and head for home, he'll come.

But eventually I do get up, shake out the blanket and shove it back into the car, casting one last glance at the sky. Sometimes I almost think I see a star actually winking out of existence, but I know that can't be possible. It's just my imagination, seeing conflict where there isn't any.

Maybe one day I'll stop looking at his file every day.

Maybe one day I'll stop listening for the sound of his ship everywhere I go.

Maybe one day I'll be able to sleep without dreaming of him.

Maybe one day I'll stop coming out to this field just to look for him every night.

Maybe one day.

But not today.


End file.
